Perspective
by TolkienGirl
Summary: "She realizes, now, that in the time she has known him she had watched hope blossom out of the emptiness behind his eyes, and it hurts her to know, now, how it first had died." David shares the story of Liam with Emma. Post-3x05, based on Emma's knowledge in 3x08. T for some language.


**A/N: Daddy Charming + Davey Jones + Captain Swan. Hope you enjoy! Review please :)**

"Emma."

Her heart clenches up, just a bit, and it's _stupid_ because she's a grown woman and it's none of her father's business if-

"Yes, David?"

"I...I wanted to talk to you."

Is it really showing that much? Sure, her blood is pumping-_racing_-through her veins and she can still feel him and _taste_ him but-

"It didn't mean anything."

She sees genuine confusion flash over her father's face. "What?"

_Damnit. He doesn't know. He didn't see._ Part of her wants to punch herself at the moment, because...well, because she should have known, if David had _actually_ seen, she'd be locked in a hastily constructed tower and Hook would be...probably missing more than a hand.

"Nothing."

David's brow furrows for a minute, as though he's about to ask more...but Emma schools her features into a semblance of Mary Margaret's glare which works wonders to divert his curiosity.

"Ah." He sits down beside her, legs stretched out before him, back straight against the broad tree trunk that she is leaning against. His perfect posture and clean-cut...everything...is something of a reprieve from the lounging nonchalance and dangerous smirk that got her into so much trouble _just five minutes ago._

"So...what'd you want to talk about?"

She hears him sigh-that thoughtful, expansive one that means he's been thinking. "Hook, actually."

Her heart betrays her again, leaping towards her throat _(she'd never believed that one's heart could leap, but then she'd never believed that someone could plunge a hand in and take one, either)_. "Hook?" _Thank God_ she knows how to keep a Poker Face.

"On our...excursion together...he shared something with me."

"Shared something?" _Hopefully not a profession of his undying love for me..._she thinks it cynically, wisely, and _not_ hopefully at all _(but why are her lips still tingling?)_

"About his brother."

"Brother?"she asks, and she tries to pretend that the temperamental weather of Neverland has sent a cool breeze tangling round her, but she knows it's a lie..._He had a brother...yet he's all alone..._

"_I too know what it's like to lose hope."_

_Oh God._

"What about his brother?"

David clears his throat, once, twice. Clearly, this isn't easy for him. At last he tells her-short snippets, only what he knows, cloaked in the ambiguity with which Hook had clearly bestowed it.

But she can read between the lines.

She realizes, now, that in the time she has known him she had watched hope blossom out of the emptiness behind his eyes, and it hurts her to know, now, how it first had died.

"I didn't think he had that sort of...attachment. To a family," David admits. Emma wants to scold him for his previous obliviousness, but she can't. After all, he's starting to see, in Hook-

_See what?_

She's afraid to define it.

The silence must be filled."Guess he...um, really cares, huh?" She drags her fingerprints into the moist soil,hoping that the flush on her cheeks is hidden in the half-light of dusk._Oh, he cares_. She knew _that_ as well-perhaps better-than she knew herself. His eager lips had spoken, without the weight of any words, the depths of his heart.

"I think he does. I think he wants to be here for more than himself." For the first time in this conversation, his voice is slightly strained, as though..._Damnit._ Is he avoiding her gaze? Does he _know_ something?

She wrests her willpower from the clutches of her emotions _(silly, inconsequential, unconquerable)_ and murmurs imperturbably, "So what does all this mean? For you," she adds hastily, lest he get the wrong impression.

He's silent for a moment. Then-"Well, as your mother could tell you, even Prince Charming is wrong sometimes." His lips quirk upwards in a smile, and she finds herself remembering (pleasantly) that her father actually has a sense of humor. "I just know that...between everyone here-it's a difficult combination, and you're bearing most of the weight. So...to lighten it a little. I'm not saying that the pirate and I are-"

"Mates?" she says, mockingly, and she might even have imitated his accent again if that wasn't a _dangerous thing to do indeed_.

"God, you're not making this easy, Emma. We're not...we're at a truce. He saved my life, I drank some of that liquid hell he calls rum, we're...even. At the moment."

_Oh, you wouldn't be if you knew_. She tries not to wince, imagining what _will_ be the look on her father's face if he finds out. Then again, maybe the "if" is a _when-_-Hook is a cocky bastard, and it _will_ be hard for him not to brag-

_You know he won't._ Even as she desperately tries to force the cacophony of her emotions into something like equilibrium, she knows for a fact that Hook won't make light of...whatever their kiss was.

She gets it, then. The _something_ about Hook. She was wrong about him as well...but unlike her father, she's not ready to admit it.

"Thanks for telling me." She stands up, angling towards the sleeping area. "I've got to get some rest."

He nods understandingly. "Goodnight, Emma."

That night, she dreams without sleeping, trying to picture what this brother might have looked like. But more than that, her mind is filled someone whose looks she doesn't have to imagine. He is written across her every thought.

The look on his face, the breathless gasps ghosting from his lips, the soft-spoken words _"As you wish..."_

Oh, his walls had lain crumbled all around him.

_Which meant hers had too._


End file.
